


Changing the Lyrics

by Charity_Angel



Series: Destiel fixes [6]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Post-Episode: s10e14 The Executioner's Song
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-17
Updated: 2015-03-17
Packaged: 2018-03-18 06:06:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3558911
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Charity_Angel/pseuds/Charity_Angel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Castiel throws the song sheet out of the window.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Changing the Lyrics

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Rayvynheart](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rayvynheart/gifts).



> For Rayvynheart, because this whole Destiel thing was half her idea anyway, and she puts up with so much from me. (And I can't even quite remember any more what my original thoughts were beyond "Cain's full of shit" and what we discussed.)
> 
> This has been written in the space of about an hour. It has not been checked over, because I have a feeling I'll start over-thinking it and tweaking it to death if I even try. I want to leave it as raw as I hope it is, but if there are any glaring errors, let me know and I'll fix them.

“Dean’s not okay, is he?”

Castiel hesitated, because he knew what was eating at Dean: he had overheard everything that Sam had not, knew what Cain had said to Dean. But Sam didn’t know any of that, and Cas wasn’t sure whether it was fair to burden him with the knowledge of what was consuming Dean, or whether it was more cruel to leave Sam imagining what the problem was this time.

Resolve swept through him: both his boys were in pain, and that wasn’t fair to either of them. And fixing Dean would fix Sam.

He stood decisively.

“Leave Dean to me, Sam,” he said fixing Sam with a look that used to have his subordinate angels practically bending over backwards to do his will. It didn’t work quite the same way on the Winchesters, he had discovered. But it was more effective on Sam than Dean: he nodded silently, hugging himself tightly.

“Dean will be fine: he just needs to believe that. Please, Sam, keep doing what you were doing before this: Dean was very well balanced before today. But, please, for tonight, leave him to me.”

“Sure thing, Cas,” Sam replied quietly. He had an almost shrewd expression and, not for the first time, Castiel wondered just how much his friend knew about his feelings for Dean. He had never hidden them, exactly, but he had never acted upon them either. Not yet, anyway.

Cas strode through the corridors of the bunker to Dean’s bedroom. He knocked softly, and opened the door before Dean could either invite him in or ignore him.

“Jeez,” Dean spluttered. “Give a guy a chance?”

Castiel was certain that was bravado. He knew how low Dean was right now, he knew what Dean believed about himself and his situation.

“You did not listen to what Cain said,” Cas said, without apology. His voice was harsh, but it was the only thing he knew would get through to Dean. Dean dealt with emotion explosively, and Cas was going to have to put the torch to this particular keg in order to resolve the issue.

Dean looked up, incredulous. “Oh, I listened all right. I listened when he told me it was hopeless, that I was going to end up just like him, an unstoppable killing machine. Cas, man…”

Cas hauled him to his feet by the front of his shirt, grabbing Dean’s attention somewhat.

“That is not what Cain said, Dean,” he hissed. “He told you he _would_ not stop, not that he _could_ not.”

Dean batted his hands away. “What’s the freaking difference, dude? You’re gonna have to put that blade of yours in me one way or the other.”

Cas shook his blade into his hand, then threw it into the corner of the room, out of reach behind him.

“No, Dean. I will not. Because I am going to give you a reason to stop.”

He seized Dean once more, and kissed him. It was rough, almost unpleasant, and entirely unlike the tender kisses he had shared with the reaper, April.

Dean was fighting against him. But not just that. Dean was crying.

Cas pulled back and rubbed his thumbs gently under Dean’s eyes. “You have sacrificed every happiness to protect others,” he said softly. “You have given up everything because the world demanded it of you. You deserve some happiness, Dean.”

Dean would never want to hear that, though. Cas had always known that – it was why he had said nothing until now – but Dean now _needed_ to know.

“Please, Dean, please listen to me.” He held Dean’s face gently, his thumbs still stroking absently across the smooth planes of Dean’s cheeks. “I need you to listen, as I once did to you. You saved me once, do you remember? You brought me back to you by saying you needed me.” Cas swallowed thickly, feeling the words catch in his throat in their hurry, their desperation to be heard.

“I need you, Dean. I need you here, with me. I have always needed you. I will always need you. I need you to believe that you… that _we_ can beat this. There is nothing we have not succeeded at when we stood by each other.”

Dean’s breath was coming in short gasps, and he was staring at Castiel. By now, Cas was fairly well-versed in the non-verbal language of Dean’s stares, but this had so many layers he wasn’t certain of where to start.

“I think you know that, Dean,” Cas continued, unable to stop himself now that he was actually saying everything he had always wanted to. “I know you were speaking to Crowley when you spoke of your fears about not being able to hand the Blade back, but you were looking at me.”

Dean squirmed suddenly. “Cas, man, don’t go there.”

“Dean, have you not wondered how Cain resisted the urges of the Mark for a century and a half? He has shown that it is possible if you want it enough.” He smiled, just a touch, sensing victory. “And you only have a third of that time period to consider, if you are lucky. Please, Dean. Let yourself have what we both need.” He looked deep into Dean’s eyes and repeated: “I need you.”

Dean gave a whimper and pulled Cas to him. This time, the kiss was perfect: their mouths moved together like they had been born to do this. Castiel had a sudden revelation as to what it meant to be with one’s soulmate, and understood why such people were permitted to share a heaven. Even his stolen grace was crying for the touch of Dean’s soul. Dean seemed just as desperate he was; rejoicing in being allowed this but needing so much more at the same time.

“Let yourself,” Cas murmured against his lips. “You can have everything – you only ever needed to ask.”

Dean pulled away, resting his forehead against Cas’. “Is it this simple?”

Castiel smiled. “Yes, Dean. It is.”


End file.
